"I'll die young, like, Robbie Burns," he would say stoutly.

No question but he had a certain accomplishment in minor verse.

His "Hermiston Burn," with its pretty refrain-- "I love to gang thinking whaur ye gang linking, Hermiston burn, in the howe;" his "Auld, auld Elliotts, clay-cauld Elliotts, dour, bauld Elliotts of auld," and his really fascinating piece about the Praying Weaver's Stone, had gained him in the neighbourhood the reputation, still possible in Scotland, of a local bard; and, though not printed himself, he was recognised by others who were and who had become famous.

Walter Scott owed to Dandie the text of the "Raid of Wearie" in the _Minstrelsy_; and made him welcome at his house, and appreciated his talents, such as they were, with all his usual generosity.

The Ettrick Shepherd was his sworn crony; they would meet, drink to excess, roar out their lyrics in each other's faces, and quarrel and make it up again till bedtime.